


Preparation

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Series: Ficlets [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fitz's POV, Fluff and Crack, Future Fic, Roleplay, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma doesn't quite get the concept of bedroom roleplay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preparation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astro_timbre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astro_timbre/gifts).



> Dedicated to astrotimbre, who sent me this prompt as part of my giveaway on tumblr!
> 
> This takes place in some undefined future AU where FitzSimmons are in an established relationship & live together.

Fitz exhaled, tightening his black, skinny tie and giving himself a last, critical once-over. The suit Jemma had picked out for him was, predictably, a perfect fit, even if he did feel somewhat ridiculous in it. Considering that he knew he looked better in collared shirts than tees, he’d always felt awkward in full suits, and he had - admittedly - only very rarely had a need to wear one. He suspected that this was probably the reason for Jemma’s decision to put him in one for tonight’s activities, about which he was somewhat torn.

Last week, much to Fitz's own embarrassment, Skye had spent a good two hours regaling them with the virtues of roleplay in the bedroom. For his part, Trip had just sat there good-naturedly, quietly adjusting her exaggerations when he felt it was necessary and trying not to laugh. Much to Fitz’s surprise, Jemma had become rather taken with the concept and they’d agreed to give it a try. Since this was her idea, he’d let her make all the arrangements - this wasn't to say that the idea of roleplay with Jemma was unappealing, just that his ability to concentrate with her wearing anything other than her normal clothes was already questionable. Having to act something out (a task at which he was not especially gifted, to say the least) while she wore something _intended_ to be sexy just seemed probably beyond him - but he'd promised do his best. And, either way, the result would be sex with his girlfriend. There really was no downside.

When he'd arrived home this evening, she'd presented him with a suit bag and instructed him to change in the bathroom while she finished up, and he'd eventually done as she instructed. (“Eventually” being the key word, since she’d been wearing a bathrobe and, in his expert opinion, Jemma looked sexy in pretty much anything; it had taken her a few tries to shove him in the right direction.) 

Giving his hair one last run-through with his fingers, he knocked against the bathroom door. “Jemma? Can I come out...?”

The sound of rustling fabric greeted him, and something heavy hit the bed with a thud. “Yes!”

Fitz pushed the door slowly open, and stopped mid-step when his brain processed what Jemma was wearing. A royal blue silk cocktail dress clung to her every curve, one long slit running up her thigh and, as she turned to him, a low neckline revealed the smattering of freckles that dipped between her breasts. After a moment, he realized that his head was tilted to the side and his mouth was hanging open, as if those muscles had simply given up working, and he shook himself out of his abrupt, lust-induced stupor.

“Holy hell, Jemma, where have you been hiding that dress?” 

She smirked, slinking over - in heels higher than he’d ever seen her wear before - to center his tie. (Her usual footwear preference avoided heels at all costs, and he assumed that she was only wearing these because she knew they wouldn’t be leaving the bedroom. In fact, he’d bet money that they were Skye’s, and then forced his brain away from the embarrassing likeliness that Jemma had probably told their friend all about tonight’s plan.)

“I bought it Tuesday, when you were -“

“Consulting with Mack on the helicarrier,” he finished for her, his eyes catching the low dip of fabric that stopped just above her arse as she did a small pirouette.  

“You like it, then?” 

He raised an eyebrow at her teasing tone, and glanced down at his trousers. “Nope. Can’t stand it. In fact,” he deadpanned, taking a few purposeful steps forward, “I think I should rip it off you this second.” 

Jemma let him wrap his arms around her waist, laughing and shaking her head. “Not yet, Mr Bond - that comes later.” 

“Hopefully a couple times,” he muttered, watching her turn towards the bed and exhaling slowly. “So, that’s what we’re doing then? Bond?” 

“Goldfinger was on cable the other night -" She shot him a glare when he burst into laughter, holding his arms around his stomach.

“Sorry,” he wheezed, readjusting his disarranged suit. “I just - I dunno what’s funnier, that you're getting _me_ to act out your Sean Connery fantasy, or the relevance of that title. Because, y’know, I have ten of those -"

“Yes, Fitz -”

"And you're rather fond of them -"

She gave him a dramatic eyeroll. “I’m well aware of that.”

“I could make you more aware of it....” He reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her flush against him and sliding one hand down her abdomen to rest just above the apex of her thighs. 

Jemma let out a small snort. “Fitz, I love you dearly, but it’s a very good thing that _I_  wrote the script tonight - your dialogue is atrocious.”

Brows drawing together in a frown, he loosened his arms slightly. “Script? There’s a script?” 

“Of course,” she chirped, patting his hand and reaching forward to grab the thing that had made the thud on the mattress: A frighteningly thick binder full of papers. “And backstory, as well as mission details.” Jemma started describing the plot she'd laid out as he sunk onto the edge of the bed and flipped through the pages.

“Jemma,” Fitz said with a small chuckle, interrupting her. “I don’t think this is how roleplay actually works.” 

Her face fell and she twisted one hand into the silk dress (what of it she could pull away from her body, anyway, which wasn’t much). “But I spent four hours preparing this yesterday -“

“And I know you love preparation,” he teased, standing and pulling her gently into his arms. “But shouldn’t this be more, I dunno, spontaneous? Y’know, about the excitement of pretending to be someone else....” He trailed off, sweeping a stray hair out of her face and hoping that he wasn’t hurting her feelings.

Staring worriedly somewhere around his collarbone, Jemma nibbled at the corner of her lip. “But what if there are story inconsistencies?” 

He laughed again, and leaned down to slant his lips across hers, taking his time with kissing her until he could feel her melt against him. A low whimper made its way out of her throat when he pulled away, and he grinned. “I feel like we probably wouldn’t notice any inconsistencies.”  

Jemma studied his face for a few moments, worrying at her lip again and reaching up to trail her fingers along his jawline. “Can we try it my way this once, though? Please? I think you’ll like it.”

Her honey-brown eyes stared earnestly up at him, and Fitz let out a fond sigh. “Alright, we can try it your way.”

The smile she gave him lit up the entire room and he couldn’t help but give her one in return; he’d never really been able to refuse her anything. (Unless she was wrong about something in the lab, anyway. It wasn’t often, but it still happened, and far be it from him to let an important detail go untold - especially because, these days, it usually involved him being able to rile her up before taking her home.)  

“Excellent! And we can try it your way next time, I promise -“

“Honestly,” he said, settling himself back on the bed with the binder on his lap, “my way mostly involves you being naked, and that’s about the extent of the plan.” 

“You’ll have that soon enough,” she teased, patting him on the knee. “Now, would you like me to leave you alone to concentrate, or would you like me here as incentive to finish studying?”

Fitz blinked at her, his gaze halting somewhere in the vicinity of her breasts, and swallowed. “Here, definitely.” 

The slow smile she gave him as she stretched herself out on the bed absolutely, one-hundred percent, did _not_ help him concentrate. It took him a good thirty seconds before he realized that she’d crooked an eyebrow at him, and that he should be reading the bloody novel on his lap rather than admiring the way the bedside lamp threw shadows across her curves. Fitz glanced back at the binder and inhaled, reminding himself how much he liked having sex with his girlfriend and that no matter what she had planned, it would inevitably be worth the studying. Jemma had always excelled at preparation, after all. 


End file.
